


He Never Went Back

by darthhellokitty



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, F/M, Seduction, Tricksters, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-24
Updated: 2011-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthhellokitty/pseuds/darthhellokitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pairing should be warning enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Never Went Back

Jack was still wherever Jack was, and Owen was discovering that their leader’s flirting, joking, and sheer magnetism had done a lot to defuse the tension that could build up in the Hub. Owen could say a perfectly harmless thing, like how Tosh should let Gwen borrow her top because it’d fit her better, and without Jack to change the subject – usually to some unlikely sexual adventure he claimed to have had – the girls actually stayed mad. And then Ianto would give him these dirty looks, and Owen didn’t want to find out whether he was armed. Owen liked Ianto better when he thought he was just a tea-boy with benefits.

So now Owen was eating his lunch in one of the empty cells, where it was quiet, and cool, and nobody was pissed off at him.

Usually it would be noisy as hell down there, with Janet the weevil snarling and jumping at the cell door, but she’d had been strangely subdued lately. There weren’t any other weevils close enough for her to empathize with, and Owen supposed she was in a funk. She was a lot easier to live with when she wasn’t showing off her teeth. Obviously she was still hideous, she was a weevil after all, but Owen figured that to another weevil Janet might be quite fit.

One time he heard this odd little sigh from Janet’s cell. She looked in his direction and sniffed loudly with her eyes halfway closed. She looked like she smelled something good.

Owen tossed her a chip through one of the ventilation holes. Janet reached from where she was sitting and picked it up, sniffed it, and had a nibble. She kind of tilted her head like she was figuring out if she liked it, then made a happy sound and devoured it, licking her fingers afterward with a funny little pink tongue like a cat’s.

“Poor old thing, you liked that, didn’t you? Might as well have another, I’m not finishing them.”

After that he ate lunch with Janet most days. Both of them sat on the floor, leaning against the clear wall that divided them, and Owen offered the weevil anything she seemed interested in. Whatever sort of weevil-chow she usually got when Ianto fed her, she certainly liked a bit of variety; she greeted half a turkey sandwich with delight, and definitely had a taste for Diet Coke. She made a terrible face – an even worse face than usual – when she tried a piece of chocolate, but when Owen gave her a pickle she seemed to go into a trance of delight. It was easy to make Janet happy.

They talked sometimes, too. Well, Owen talked; Janet listened intently and seemed to agree with him. He could tell her about his day, or the night before out at the clubs, and she’d look at him as if she were saying “go ahead, and then what happened?” She had that look in her eye that made Owen think she was – not human, but maybe something like a chimp. She was thinking, in there. It made Owen feel a little bad about how he’d treated weevils since he’d been with Torchwood.

One afternoon, after they’d shared some donut holes, Janet put her – hand? paw? no, that was definitely a hand – flat against the clear wall covering one of the ventilation holes. Owen put his hand up to his side of the wall and just that little bit of their palms touched. Janet’s hand was warm, and he felt a warm wave of a pleasant emotion he couldn’t quite identify wash over him for a moment.

Owen felt good for the rest of the day – like he had a little secret smile inside that nobody else could see. Just him and Janet.

After an extremely odd IM session with Ianto, Owen took over giving Janet her regular meals. It was great having an excuse to see her a few more times a day. They touched palms through the ventilation holes, and Owen liked that better every time.

One night, he stayed late, working on ways to block a new alien virus, until everyone else had left the Hub (even Ianto, who Owen had always thought slept there, probably under Jack’s desk). He was getting ready to leave when he heard an odd little sigh, so soft that he really shouldn’t have been able to hear it. He went straight to Janet’s cell, and found her sitting in the corner, looking sad (as far as he could tell anyway). She stood to put both palms against the clear barrier. He liked how she was a bit taller than he was.

It wasn’t just the way her hands felt, warm and soft, or even the feeling he got when they touched that way. It was that expression on her face. Owen didn’t think about claws and fangs anymore. He just entered the code that unlocked Janet’s cell, sat down beside her, and put an arm around her shoulder. They sat side by side on the floor of the cell, and as she leaned into him Owen was overwhelmed by a deep, all-consuming feeling of peace, warmth, and something more.

Things happened fast, or at least it seemed like they did when he thought about that night later. They lay down on the floor, facing one another, and exchanged light, curious touches. Owen’s t-shirt and jeans ended up in a corner, along with Janet’s coverall. Since it never did make any sense that weevils wore clothes anyway, Owen wasn’t surprised that she had nothing else on under it.

Janet was warm all over, and the tiny, lighter-colored scales on her chest and belly made her feel like the biggest, nicest crocodile handbag in the world. It felt incredible when Owen pressed himself up against her. The bigger, rougher scales on her back and sides made an interesting contrast. She made appreciative little sounds when he kissed her neck and stroked her sides, and Owen wondered what exactly weevils liked.

He knew enough to know Janet’s bits were designed for something a whole lot different from what he had, so fucking was out of the question, but he’d shagged enough girls to know that wasn’t the only thing they liked.

She had a kind of flap down there, something like what a lizard would have, and when he touched her just outside it, she froze, then melted. She turned on her back, writhed, and opened as he explored first with fingers, then tongue.

She was wet, but she was nothing like a woman. She tasted like licorice. There were three very tender, sensitive tendrils just inside, and when he sucked gently at them they swelled a little and she began moaning, telling him that was the right thing to do. He slipped one hand up into the opening behind them and stroked, and she grew frantic, pushing against it in quick, rhythmic thrusts. She made a sound he’d never heard any weevil make, a kind of high-pitched, shivering wail, tightened suddenly around his hand, and then simply collapsed into a puddle on the floor, panting.

Owen grinned. He loved having that effect on girls.

She watched, lazy and amused, as he dealt with his own arousal, almost as an afterthought. The way she’d gone crazy from what he’d done to her, the sounds she made – it didn’t take him long to bring himself off. They lay together, him spooned against her scaly back, and went to sleep. His last thoughts were of what she might want for breakfast.

In the morning, she was gone – she’d run through the Hub, and out past an extremely startled Tosh as she came in. Owen was able to get dressed before Tosh came down to see how Janet had got out of her cell.

Owen felt a little foolish. Janet had taken advantage of him, and he’d never guessed. He really couldn’t fault her: she’d been cooped up down there long enough. Maybe she’d manage to find her way back to her own kind. Owen hoped she’d remember him fondly.

After that, he started eating lunch upstairs again.


End file.
